Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 103030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
“You two can piss all over each other,” Nate says. “You can either do it outside so I don’t have to clean up the blood. Or you can do it in here so I can knock you both the fuck out, which, in reality, is probably what you both need and deserve.”
“Is that a threat?” Marius asks.
“No, buddy. That’s a fucking promise.” Nate’s body shakes with anger. “Now hit the road while you have two legs to carry you out.”
Marius smirks and disappears out the door.
“What the fuck was that?” Oliver asks as soon as Marius is gone, readjusting his attention to me. “He knew where you worked? And that you’d be here tonight. Well played, Shaye. You got the bigger fish.”
“Easy on your tone, bud.” Nate fills the spot at my side that Marius vacated. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“What do you fucking know about jack shit?” Oliver springs to life, the shock from the moment dissipating. “Let me guess—you’re Nate.”
He says his name like it’s poison.
“I am. Nate Hughes. I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but I’ll wait and see if that pans out to be true.”
Oliver shakes his head and looks at me. “I don’t know what to say to you.”
A tear slips through my lashes and flows down my cheek. “This isn’t my fault.”
“The hell it isn’t. What else do I not know? What else are you keeping from me?”
“Nothing.” My voice breaks. “I’m not keeping anything from you. I should’ve told you about the flowers, but I didn’t want you to be mad.”
“I’d only be mad if there was a reason to be.”
“Oh, like now? You’re mad now, and there’s no reason to be.”
“No reason to be? I walk in here after telling you that I love you today—something that you don’t say back, may I add—and you’re chatting it up with Marius Blast after he sent you thirty fucking roses? I say I have a reason to be pissed the fuck off.” He forces a swallow down his throat. “Nate, can we have a minute alone?”
Nate stands in front of me, blocking Oliver. “You okay with that?”
I nod.
He pats my shoulder. “Holler if you need me.”
Oliver’s gaze lands on the spot Nate touched me. It takes him a long couple of seconds to speak once we’re alone.
“All I’ve asked of you is to be honest with me, Shaye.”
It’s true. That is all he’s really asked of me.
But I’ve told him as best as I can what I need too. I’ve told him about Luca and how he controlled me. How he jumped to conclusions. How things got so terribly bad that I was scared for my life sometimes. And, right now, perhaps adrenaline is the only thing keeping me upright. The fear he’d hit me had been momentarily blinding. Momentarily. Because Oliver uses words to fight. Not fists.
“I have been honest with you,” I say through my unshed tears.
“If you think withholding information like this—if meeting men behind my back at your second job is somehow being honest with me, then I don’t think you understand honesty.”
I do understand honesty. And I understand fear, something Oliver Mason would know nothing about because he doesn’t answer to anyone.
Tears flow uninterrupted down my face as I realize the crux of the situation. It wasn’t about the flowers, nor was it about him being angry.
The flowers were a trigger—a situation that brought back too many memories that I don’t want to remember. A life of living on pins and needles, of being blamed and shamed. A relationship that required me to overthink every damn situation I was faced with in a day and decide if it was worth fighting over. Because those fights? They didn’t end with a kiss and makeup sex.
Maybe I can explain that …
“I—”
“You know what?” Oliver says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I don’t think this is going to work out.”
“What?”
I’m too frozen to allow any of the tears left in my eyes to fall onto my cheeks.
“What did you say?” I ask him. “Oliver, no.”
He looks at the ceiling. “I don’t have it in me to trust someone enough to have this kind of a … to do this. You know?”
“Are you kidding me?”
“It’s not you, Shaye. It’s me.”
“Don’t use that cliché line on me.”
He almost smiles through the sadness that has swamped his beautiful eyes. “Well, it’s true. There’s a reason I don’t have relationships and I’m reminded today of why.”
“Because some asshole creeped on me at work?”
“No, because I refuse to expend this amount of energy on someone who doesn’t value the same things as I do.” He sighs. “I have a lot of things happening right now that need my attention. Maybe we can just take some time apart and … see what happens.”
His features are smooth, just like they are when he’s in a meeting and doesn’t want to tip his hand. He’s calm, cool, and collected … only I see the truth. I see the pain and the sadness. And I want to hug him.